Triopic 3
by Cascade Waters
Summary: Parallel experience--third of three. WARNING: Contains spanking.


I couldn't believe that this was happening.

So, okay, I haven't been having the greatest day.

So, okay, I haven't been having the greatest week.

Seriously--I didn't ever think I'd hurt quite that much under her care.

But today... today, she actually made me take a nap. A nap. Like a two-year-old. And I was pretty sure I knew exactly what she meant by her 'or else' look when I tried to protest.

Short version is this:

I thought I'd been pretty good for Mrs--Delta (her insistence that I refer to her by her given name is still a point of controversy in my mind, especially given our history and my position,) trying to follow her orders, being polite and respectful (for the most part.) But really, ordering me to bed for a nap on a day when I really was getting better, when I was a guest in her home and felt that I should be treated with respect and allowed to do as I pleased--well, it was just too much. I was so frustrated that I let her know what I thought of her order and what she could do with her nap, in very literary terms.

Don't get me wrong--I like the woman. I've enjoyed some of our conversations, especially about Derek, and I've appreciated her taking the time and the energy to set aside whatever misgivings she may have had and assist me in my recovery. She's intelligent, insightful, humorous, and clever. Perhaps too clever, she is--possibly even devious, as she always seems to know everything. There has to be a word for that, but I haven't found it yet; it was definitely something I'd never encountered, though.

Unfortunately for me, I wasn't very appreciative when I let go of my tongue this afternoon (after she coerced me into eating,) and by the time she let go of me, I was thinking of some different literary terms, most of which will never appear in any of my writings. Suffice to say that, having had a few... less significant... encounters with Augusta over the past week, and now a much more... detailed... discourse, basic sense would dictate that I would choose to endeavor to avoid a rehash.

I won't go into detail here, but I will say that I did eventually relent and avail myself of the guest bed again, and surprisingly, I found that I actually did rest. When I woke to a hand rubbing my back, and she told me that it was time for dinner, I didn't want to move--partially because I was feeling languid (without medicinal aid) for the first time in a good while. The rest of the reasons don't matter, and as it turns out, neither did that one; she insisted that I get up and wash up and come to the table, where, mercifully, we were alone in our dining. The meal was fair, filling, if somewhat less than comfortable for me, and she didn't offer dessert, which was fine, as I've eaten more food the past week than I've ever eaten in a month in my memory.

After clearing the table and washing the dishes, I wondered what to do for the rest of the evening; I went to her and apologized again for my outburst, for which I got scolded and warned to learn from it and let it go. At that moment, she sounded a little like Gideon; I tried to conceal the little pain at that, but she saw it, of course, as she always seems to see everything, and she hugged me.

And that was when Derek entered. When I turned to look at him, surprised that he was here two days before I'd expected him, I had the distinct impression that he knew about the incident after lunch, but he didn't mention it, instead asking about my health. I answered honestly because the consequences for lying didn't appeal to me, not with M--Del-- (I can't do it, I just can't call her by name like I belong in her house, not after my behavior, and besides, it couldn't be more obvious that I don't belong) standing right there with her pseudoparanormal perspicacity.

I went back to the guest room but wasn't there long before he came to get me, telling me to follow him down the hall to the stairs. I wondered if he planned to take me somewhere else to address my behavior, but we just climbed up to the roof access, conversing about the case the team had finished today while he patiently helped me to hobble up the stairs, making sure that I kept my weight off of my foot (what he doesn't know about the walk I took yesterday, he doesn't need to know.) We found a crowd up there, but he guided me to a narrow pallet arranged near the front edge of the roof. His neighbors milled around, eyes on the Chicago sky, and most of them clearly knew him. They seemed surprised to see him with me, though, and while I'd have expected him to take a chair if he wanted to be part of this mysterious gathering, he helped me down onto the pallet and then arranged himself on it and started arranging me. He took the bag she'd given me out of my hands and opened the tin inside, grinning fondly. "Sweet bun bars," he said happily, and I was sure I saw touches of humor and pride, though I had no idea what sweet bun bars were or why they'd elicit that reaction.

They turned out to be the most... comforting treat I've ever tasted--cookie bars with cinnamon, chocolate chunks, toffee chips, and a hint of something he says is butterscotch. He wouldn't tell me how they got their name or why he was so happy to see them, but he did have me eat one before he laid down on the narrow pallet and... pulled me down to his side, laying my head on his chest. I was on my side in this position, which was much more comfortable for my foot and... other things, and actually, pretty comfortable all the way around, if not beneficial to my manhood. One of the other rooftop denizens made a remark about it, to which the blond man next to us retorted sharply. I wasn't sure what to do, but I didn't want to embarrass my brother, especially in front of his oldest friends, so I started to pull up. He held me down and looked up almost casually.

"Thanks, Stanley, but it's okay, I got this." Not bothering to move much, he angled his head back to see the heckler, a man about Derek's age with part of a racial tattoo showing on the dark skin above the collar of his shirt. "I'm not afraid to take care of my little brother, Nitzmoor, not that you'd know anything about that. Do we need to have this discussion again?" I could just barely see the man, but I saw him flinch and touch his jaw, a sign of a remembered impact, and he sat back and fell silent while the younger man sitting next to him smiled tentatively in the growing darkness. I wanted to ask Derek about all of it, but in another few seconds, none of that mattered, as the rooftop exploded...

...in dazzling green light. My breath caught, and I found myself settling in against my 'brother' to watch my first fireworks show. Oh, I know, I grew up in Las Vegas, everyone assumes my life was all about the lights and the parties, but to tell you the truth, I never got to see fireworks when I was a boy because they tended to touch off my mother's episodes, and I was always too busy (and never invited) to attend shows once I'd achieved my independence. I'd always wished that I could see them, but I'd never shared any of that with anyone except M--D--my hostess, and I'd certainly never anticipated finding myself watching them from the roof of an apartment building in Chicago, one of only two Caucasions in the gathering, and snugged up against my decidedly-not-a-Reid older 'brother.'

When the show was over and the crowd had thinned, the man Derek had called Stanley helped us back down to the apartment, dropping a kiss on my hostess's cheek before bidding us good night and leaving. Derek explained that Stanley was a police officer who had stood by him during a rough time, along with another detective and a friend of theirs, and that maybe one day he'd tell me the story. He helped me get ready for bed, watching me take my medications, and sat with me; I was surprisingly tired, but I couldn't settle in enough to sleep. He's gone to get me some warm milk for the tryptophan, so I need to stop... now. If he catches me...

Maybe someday I'll be able to find something even a fraction as awesome to give to this man who keeps giving me all kinds of fireworks and gets nothing back.


End file.
